Patent Medicine
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: Patent medicines shows were common entertainment in the 1800s. As a doctor Carlisle has little use for the worthless remedies they peddle, but is there also a personal reason behind his distaste?


**Disclaimer:** While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Carlisle are not to be regarded as authoritative.

Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Stephenie Meyer; all original characters and story © 2015 FemaleChauvinist.

 _Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

 _Mid-1800s_

 **Carlisle**

I stood at the fringes of the crowd that had gathered to watch the traveling patent medicine show. The "doctor," a Mr Hiram Sanders, was performing cheap magic tricks that had the crowd gasping in wonder. My own eye was too quick to be fooled by his sleight-of-hand, of course; I was amused more by the crowd's reaction.

It was all in harmless fun, and it wasn't until he began to peddle his useless wares that I turned on my heel to leave. It wasn't his taking their money that bothered me; he had provided an evening of entertainment and deserved some compensation. If I had thought all the bottles would sit forgotten on a shelf, I wouldn't have had a problem.

But as a doctor, I had serious issues with useless "snake-oil" remedies; I actually preferred the old folk remedies and herbs that often really did have at least some effectiveness.

So I walked back through the deserted streets and unlocked the door of my office. I briefly contemplated going hunting, but I wasn't comfortable leaving town when a large crowd was gathered. When you had that many people together, more often than not, _something_ would happen. And as people also tended to come for a doctor when I _had_ gone hunting, I had become mildly superstitious about leaving while a crowd was gathered.

So I pulled a book off the shelf and sat reading in the dark. But I found it hard to keep my mind on the text; Granny Irene's face kept appearing in my mind.

Nearly an hour later, a knock came at the door. I set the book aside and stood up, quickly lighting the lamp before going to answer it. There on my doorstep stood the charlatan.

"Mr Sanders," I said coldly, pointedly refusing to call him Doctor. "What can I do for you."

"I haven't been feeling right lately," he explained. "I know it's late, but I was wondering if you might be so kind…"

I raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Why don't you just take some of that medicine you've been hawking all evening?"

He flushed. "Surely, Doctor, you know as well as I do that that stuff's mostly whiskey and flavoring."

"Yes. I know," I said shortly. "I only wish the townspeople knew it wasn't quite the miracle cure-all you make out."

He laughed nervously. "Oh, no one believes that, Doctor."

I gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Don't they?" I sighed. "If they just took it as a tonic for minor illnesses, I wouldn't care. But when they have absolute faith in it, not sending for me until it's too late…" I trailed off, shaking my head.

"Ah. I'll see if there's a doctor in the next town, then. Sorry to trouble you, Doctor," he said sardonically. As he turned to leave, he wavered and almost fell; I might have thought it was a ploy to gain my sympathy if I hadn't heard his heartbeat falter at the same time.

"No, I didn't mean that," I said quietly, gripping his upper arm to steady him. "I would never turn away anyone who required my services. Come on inside."

"Thank you, Doctor," he said almost huskily.

I merely nodded, leading him through the waiting area to my examining room. "I'm _Dr_ Carlisle Cullen." I emphasized my title and nearly added the letters of my degree, but decided that that might be pushing things a little. "What's been troubling you, Mr Sanders?"

"I've been getting dizzy spells…nearly fainted a couple times."

"I see…" I turned up the flame in the lamp, catering to the assumption that I actually needed light. "Have a seat on the table there, Mr Sanders."

I questioned him more closely about his symptoms and checked him as thoroughly as I would have any other patient, but kept my remarks short and to the point.

There was little I could do for him; his heart was growing weak, and medicine then hadn't advanced very far in that direction. I prescribed some powders for him to take when the dizzy spells came on him, though privately I had my doubts they would do any good. Maybe I wasn't all that different from him, really…

"Doctor, I don't mean to pry…but was there a specific incident that set you against patent medicine?"

I sighed, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand; was it that obvious? "Yes," I admitted. "Mind you, I wouldn't have much use for quacks in any case, but there was one woman…Granny Irene."

I had seen her often; her eight-year-old twin grandsons were forever getting themselves hurt. Granny's dark eyes would sparkle at me as she called me a "young whippersnapper" who didn't know what I was doing. She and I would exchange friendly banter, but the one thing she never let me do was treat her for any ailment.

"She trusted completely in patent medicines charlatans like you pawned off on her," I continued in a low voice. "When she got sick two winters ago, she wouldn't let her daughter come for me — not until it was too late." I sighed, turning away to needlessly straighten the bottles on a shelf. I missed those snapping black eyes and the sharp wit. I had done all I could to save her, but I knew from the first it was a losing battle.

"She might have died anyway," Mr Sanders suggested bluntly.

"Yes," I admitted. "That was a hard year; I lost a number of patients. But if she had come to me sooner, she would have at least had a chance…" I sighed, shaking my head. There was no changing the past.

"Look, Doc, how about if I promise to take my medicine show only to towns with no doctor?" he asked half sarcastically.

I spun around to face him. " _Don't_ make a joke of it!" I drew in a deep breath, instantly regretting my sharp tone. "I'm sorry."

"No…ah…that's all right, Doc. Thanks again." Eyeing me warily, he edged past and out the door. I didn't know if he would remember to pay me…I didn't care.

I remained where I was for long moments, trying to regain control of my emotions. I barely noticed as the corner of the shelf splintered off under my fingers.

Then I slipped out the back way and went hunting, disappearing into the night.

The End

 **A/N: I suppose Carlisle's bad temper was increased by the fact that he** _ **was**_ **thirsty! Barbie**

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! (In this story, an apparently missing question mark is actually intentional, as Carlisle was speaking so flatly that there was little to no inflection of a question in his voice.)_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Twilight alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. (I also have a chronological list of my stories, so you can see where they fall on my timeline.) Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


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